


All is well that ends well

by Omano



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dealing with past trauma, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, other characters to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:06:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8859256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omano/pseuds/Omano
Summary: The End of the World hasn't come to pass just yet, and so Adam was trying to balance his second chance at life. Just the usual: making friends, getting through the semester, wrapping his head around the idea that he had brothers, not to mention that the Devil was actually pretty real - oh, and he had a roommate too. The very same angel who had promised to ice said very real, very sulkish and just as demanding devil, and who was also no longer an angel. And who still had a huge crush on Adam's brother. It was going to be easy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I hadn't been overly active lately - and without remorse I'm going to blame it on 2016. I am also aware of my other wips. However, this one just won't let me be until I had drilled this story out of myself, so here, I'll be posting Adam's adventures in roommating with Michael. I'll add characters and tags as they come along. I'll try to deliver more regularly than usual!
> 
> Please enjoy!

 

 

“What do you think about possibly-but-maybe-not crushing on your friends?” Adam asked.

Michael made a soft, non-committal sound. “I’m not entirely sure I know what a ‘crush’ is in this context,” he told the ceiling. “Besides, you’re my only friend.”

Adam snorted a rude noise through his nose. “What you have on Dean, Mike. That’s a crush. A millenia-old one with a serious blop of pining on top, but that’s a crush. Also you like Karen and Mitch. You said so yourself.”

To that Michael didn’t answer so long Adam grew worried he might have fallen asleep. He insistently poked Michael in the knee.

“So. Crushing.”

“Are we talking friend-crush or a romantic one?” 

Adam groaned. He didn’t have it in him to point out that Michael had been absolutely bullshitting him. Clueless about what a crush  _ hah _ !, his no-longer feathery white ass! “That was meant to be my next question.” 

There was a certain charm of having these generally 3 a.m. worth talks that didn’t include the moving difficulties of the soldier-crab that once  _ definitely  _ didn’t leave Adam in tears. Except that it was only 9.30 pm on a Friday night where they should have been out at a party or a bar. Instead, they were sprawled on their rickety couch that had taken them an entire hour to drag up into their shared apartment. They didn’t even need alcohol to get them into this mood. Although Michael most certainly was itching for a cigarette at this point. Only he was banned from smoking indoors. And Adam was currently in his way of getting up.

Adam was bravely perusing Michael’s thigh as his pillow. Not like Michael had any problem with it. Or Adam for that matter. In fact Michael’s thigh was the most comfortable place in the world to rest one’s head on after an averagely stressful week. His stomach came a close second. Although Adam would be careful to endorse this observation. He had been pretty drunk at the time, and Michael’s stomach was competing with the floor, so... 

“Am I one of them?”

“One of what?”

Michael flexed his thigh in a mean of jabbing Adam in the side. “Your to-be-proven crushes.”

“Pssh. No.” Human or not Adam would never dare to have a crush of any kind on Michael. His friend, Mitchell, on the other hand… No, that would, in the best of best case scenarios result in a nightmarish M&M couple where you called out ‘Mick’ and you would be met with a disturbing scowl  _ and  _ a dopey grin, which, ugh,  _ no _ . That was a juxtaposition that didn’t fit in one universe. “I’d never want to nail you,” and he patted Michael’s knee, as if to soften the blow. In case there was any. “Like, you’ve already been inside me. Without a dick. I mean, I appreciate being  _ not dead _ and stuff, but that’s way too…” for an overstretching minute he searched for the right word. He couldn’t find it. “You know, dinner first. Possession later.”

“How old fashion of you.”

“Are you talking, rock of ages?”

Michael chuckled. “So what you’re saying is that the history of a possession, with consent, rules out the possibility of getting involved in an intercourse of any kind?”

“Ugh, it’s Friday, Mike!” Adam whined, and squirmed until he had his face smashed against the warm denim of Michael’s jeans. He had had a double lecture in anatomy and then a seminar today, he couldn’t take all these complicated sentences. “But, ugh, I guess? You literally know me inside out!” 

“I wouldn’t mind if someone else at least knew my body inside out.” 

“I bet Dean would volunteer.”

“What was that?” Michael’s tone was still soft, so painfully soft that it was more unnerving than as if he had snapped. Adam immediately felt he had just taken a double espresso shot. His heart wanted to beat right out of his chest.

“Nothing!”

Michael patted the top of his head. Weirdly enough - was there still some supernatural vessel-angel connection between ex-vessel and no-longer-angel? - it felt like Michael still held magic and the secrets of the universe in his fingertips. 

“How about the understanding of heart and mind on a level that words couldn’t hope to convey?”

“I’m sleeping.”

“You’re very obviously not.”

“I’m sleeping on top of you.”

In an awfully irresponsible manner Michael let him. But, come to think of it after a hot shower that managed to work out half of the kinks in his neck and back, and with a mug of coffee steaming in front of him Adam was pretty sure it was a plot of revenge for taking a coward’s way out of a very serious conversation. 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Adam had formed a quick and profound bond with Karen and Mitchell still on the second day of orientation week. They all elected to skip the collective drinking and “last chance” at partying before they “busted their asses over books”. Due to this (contempt-laced in certain cases) introverted behaviour also meant that neither of them got the memo of next day’s meeting’s changed location and time. Nothing brings people more together than one and a half hour of searching for your group and agonizing over whether they can take up the desired electives. 

Mitchell’s good and hopelessly romantic heart that perfectly managed to balance out Karen’s amusingly cynical nature that easily clicked with Adam’s own had the friendship stick. 

It was definitely nice not to share his life with Michael and his systematically beeping phone alone, Adam decided. 

He wasn’t one to develop meaningful and trustful relationships quick - it was enough to think of the knot that still twisted in his stomach whenever one of his brothers called - but he loved his friends. They were good friends. 

Teamwork, however, was definitely bullshit. It was the second time this week that they had set down to struggle their way through the introduction chapter of Biochem, and they still hadn’t gotten past the second page. Karen was the main reason for it - because as brilliant as she had already proved herself to be, she was far more interested in business and planning, than Alpha and Beta Chains; while Mitch, bless his heart, was always sympathetic to lend an ear to her lamenting. He was too polite to tell her to shut it and suffer half an hour instead of two and a half. 

“Adaaaam,” Karen drawled, dragging out the last syllable. She had hooked her chin over Mitchell’s shoulder, and the point of it just dug into that spot of muscle that made him jump. She pulled back with a snort-snicker combination. “Look, Mitch’s handwriting’s so neat!”

“Now it’s not!” Mitch said. He scrunched his face up into a scowl that was still more of an adorable pout. He tried to glower at Karen who didn’t even bother to scoot back to her own place around the coffee table. Adam and Michael hadn’t had the time yet to collect more than two chairs, or a dining table of proper height for that matter, so the three of them were gathered sitting on pillows on the ground.

Karen only cackled harder.

“It’s not funny!” Mitch complained. “Adam, back me up, man! She just ruined my notes!”

Adam had no other option but look up from the sentence he had tried and failed to read twenty times by now. There was a diagonal line across half the page of Mitchell’s notebook. 

“Why do you even use a notebook when you’ll type this all in at the end of the semester?” Adam already didn’t get why he had to copy full paragraphs out of the book by hand, but he was kindly informed by Sam that everyone had different learning methods. He preferred flashcards and highlighters. 

“Because that’s how they stick in my brain,” Mitch replied with an air of  _ duh! _ “Makes me sound more professional too.”

Adam hummed and studied the paper under his nose a little more. Then, just as Mitch was about to launch himself into a little lecture on how important it is to speak in full, elaborate sentences instead of belching out keywords when called upon in class, and really Adam should know as Edner had just grilled him mercilessly yesterday for a proper answer, Adam snatched the notebook from his hand. Turning his back to his friend he set his pen against the page and started scribbling. Soon Mitch plastered himself on Adam’s back, flailing and pushing in hopes of regaining his precious notes. 

“No, stop, you can’t do this!”

“I need to make sure it doesn’t look like you snatched this out of the printer!” 

Meanwhile Karen was rolling on the floor, snorting and sputtering and her arms wound around her stomach.

Adam was just finishing up a wobbly sketch of an elephant from behind whose tail could be easily mistaken for other parts of its anatomy - and he was very pleased with himself, since at this point he practically had to sit on Mithcell’s hand so that he wouldn’t knock the notebook off his hands - when he heard the front door open. 

Michael froze just inside the doorway, only one of his shoes unlaced. Adam wondered what he saw in the livingroom. A pair of boys, one awfully undead, and the other barely back from a family visit to Hong Kong, grappling and fighting over a seriously defaced notebook page… And then there were various parts of Karen visible, but mostly just spikes of her blue-tipped blond hair. And of course the sounds she made as if she was drowning, now half-draped over the couch.

Now that he thought about it, it wasn’t exactly the sight Michael would take to overly well.

“Hey, Mike!” Adam said. Although the greeting came out a little strained, especially as Mitch kneed him in the kidneys as he scrambled off his back. “These are my friends I told you about?”

Nervousness started to slowly but surely creep up Adam’s spine. He was pretty sure he  _ had  _ told Michael about Karen and Mitch, and whatever the latter claimed he had done so in grammatically correct and mostly sarcasm-free sentences. Because, as he had previously noted he liked his friends quite a lot. Whether the information had got across to Michael, well. About that he was a little less sure. 

He grew less and less certain by each second Michael stared, expression unreadable.

“Hey, how did the interview go?” Adam tried again. Anxiety settled just below his breastbone. Oh god, what if Michael was to shut down, or worse, break down at the sudden assault of new faces right then and there?

Adam just about came up with five different excuses to toe his friends out of the flat when Michael’s pocket suddenly went off with a rhythmic and thoroughly annoying sequence of  _ beep _ s. 

Michael flinched, his eyes focused. “Good,” he said. With a hand in his pocket and around his phone he quickly disappeared in the small kitchen.

There was a long-stretched silence that more than fully merited the definition of awkward. Adam could even hear the low, suckling sound of the fridge opening, and humming to life. Not to mention that he could tell by sound which dish of leftover Michael took out to eat.

“Uh,” he said as eloquently as the situation allowed him. “That, uh, that was my roommate. He-- he isn’t always this bad. I mean--” Adam shrugged in a mixture of helpless, sheepish and terribly frustrated. 

“It’s cool,” Karen said.

“Yeah, man, no big deal,” Mitch added, although he didn’t even sound half as convincing as Karen did.

“Anyway. I think we’ll be going,” Karen said. Like a boneless mass she slipped off the couch, and with far more grace that should have ever been attributed to her she stood. “I promised my roommate to help her with, uh, with a thing. And,” Not as subtly as she probably hoped for, Karen nudged Mitch in the backside with her toe, “Mitch said he’d walk with me.”

“Ugh?”

“Yeah. Girl walking the streets at night and all that.”

“Yeah!” Mitch scrambled to his feet, too, covering up a wince at no doubt another, more forceful nudge. “And all that.”

Ouch. These were the lamest excuses Adam had probably ever heard.

“You really don’t have to go!” Adam said. Something cold caressed the back of his neck and down his spine. Karen and Mitch both tried their damndest best not to glance in the kitchen’s direction where the microwave pinged. “My roommate’s -- he’s a bit of an asshole,” he didn’t even bother to keep the irritation out of his voice. It served Michael right to hear it. “With, like,  _ zero _ social skills. Really. You can totally stay. He’ll just -- I dunno -- at some point crawl out through the window to the fire escape to eat, and--”

“Nah, man, we’re good,” Karen said. Was that a faint glint of worry in her tone? Did she think Adam was totally nuts? Gosh, this was totally awkward, Adam was going to kill Michael for this. “We’ll continue defacing Mitch’s notebook tomorrow at Bio, ‘kay?”

Adam tried not to look too disheartened when he gave her a small, strained smile. “Sure.”

Not five minutes later Adam’s friends were shuffling down the stairs. 

After a quick measure of awkward jokes versus the damage the disaster named Michael had made, Adam was about 64% sure that he would still have friends to get him through the semester. Also he was 36% sure that he will soon have to be looking for a roommate if Michael remained this much of an ass whenever he met new people.

As expected he didn’t find Michael in the kitchen. The window on the other hand was open, and so that’s where Adam went. He stuck his head out, and lo and behold there he found his roommate with a plate of yellow-tainted rice-pepper mix. Adam tried to quench down the stirring relief in his chest. Although yesterday’s meal wasn’t inedible, he sure as hell didn’t want to go for seconds. 

He quickly reminded himself that he almost had to go out and make an extra effort to make new friends, so--

“When’s it in your busy-ass schedule to work on your people skills?” Adam demanded.

Michael looked up at him from his phone precariously balanced on his knee. “They aren’t that bad.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “They are practically non-existent.”

“I was caught by surprise,” Michael conceded, his gaze turned back to the piece of withered pepper on the tip of his fork. “I didn’t expect your… friends…” it sounded an awful lot like he was testing out the word, “to be here.”

“Well, they’ll hopefully come back,” Adam sniffed, and only didn’t cross his arms petulantly because it was near impossible hanging there in the window. “Unless you totally scared them off.”

“Noted.”

Adam rolled his eyes again - one of these days they were going to strain or something. He let loose a few curses under his breath, then drew back into the kitchen to see what was left for him to eat.

After a few seconds of rummaging about the fridge, with a prayer he pushed two portions worth of rice and the last two spoonfuls of stew into the microwave to heat up. He was prepared to set his tastebuds on fire in approximately a minute. Michael, while eager to offer to cook for his starving college-attending roommate, really hadn’t gotten the hang of spices just yet. Adam sometimes wondered if it was due to his own lack of taste. Or if atoms tasted the same for angels who had only been humaning for two months.

Adam stuck his head out again to Michael’s little hideaway. “You still haven’t told me how… could you please not do that when I’m about to eat?”

From the corner of his eyes Michael looked at Adam, and around his unlit cigarette said, “The smoke doesn’t carry inside.”

“I was about to crawl out and eat with you. Despite what an ass you’d just been.”

There was a moment of hesitation, just enough for Adam to start putting together a haughty excuse, like why should he bother when Michael was clearly already done with his meal - but then Michael let the jolly yellow flame of his lighter flicker out. He picked the cigarette from his lips and placed it carefully behind his ear. 

“So,” Adam started again, now with his own dinner plate, huddled only mere inches from Michael. “Did you get the job?”

“Yes.”

“Man, you’ll have to start speaking more, ‘cause in a second I’ll be spitting fire,” for emphasis he waved with his pale, but no-less angry spoonful of stew-and-rice. “When do you start?”

“I’ll have half a day tomorrow to learn how to work an espresso machine,” Michael said, absentmindedly fiddling with his lighter. “And to memorize the menu. And what else might be necessary. I’m starting the day after.”

For the next ten minutes Adam was willing to drag out his own torture Michael only explained that he was going to be a waiter at a café-slash-restaurant, only a couple blocks from Med school. And that he would have to wear a uniform, so he would inevitably have to go shop for some clothes to look presentable and up to regulation. Faded jeans just wouldn’t cut it no matter how regal he could make even that look on him. 

The miserable twist to the corner of his lips would have made Adam taunt him for it, except if he so much as took a breath through his teeth his mouth would catch fire. Literally. 

Then the phone between went off - it was a miracle how it didn’t buzz off the peak of Michael’s knee. And it wasn’t just the systematic beeping of the next item on Michael’s schedule.

“Oh,” Adam’s voice didn’t sound funny, or like he was dying at all. “Is that Dean?”

“Yes.” Michael didn’t seem to hurry to answer his phone though.

Adam rolled his eyes, “Okay, okay, fine. Talk to your boyfriend.”

Contrary to popular belief -- which was the belief of possibly no more than ten people at best nowadays -- Adam could take a hint to leave someone alone to their phonecall. Especially if that someone had a glare that would make a tsunami turn around. So Adam picked up their plates and with the dexterity of a hungover cat crawled back inside. In his defence, his mouth felt awfully numb, his nose was burning like he had snorted chili powder and his eyes watered. All in all, it had been a good meal. 

However, as he did the dishes he unabashedly listened into Michael’s side of the conversation.

“... No, Dean, I’m not surprised that you came across a pack of werewolves with a moral code. No, I’ve seen a few things. You always forget that. Yeah…” There was a special tone of amused exasperation Michael reserved specifically for the eldest Winchester. It was really cute. Not that Adam would tell either of them just yet. “You still have to show me something that’d top the EU’s existence… No… No, that’s-- No, for some odd reason the vampires drew the stick with the positive PR…” A frown creased his forehead. “I don’t understand. What does a part of the day have to do…”

Suddenly, Michael’s head appeared in the window. “What does the twilight have to do with the vampires’ positive reputation?”

At the spectacular mixture of irritation and curiosity Adam couldn’t hold back, but snort with laughter. Oh, there was great regret in there, as the motion had just rekindled the fire in the back of his throat and up his nose, but, god, the confusion had grown to epic proportions on Michael’s face, and it was  _ precious _ .  

“I’ll put you on speaker.”

“No, no, don’t do that!” Adam wheezed,  “There’s no way I’m professing to the whole street my undying hatred for past me for watching Twilight.”

Michael’s brows tugged further down over his nose. “But you’ve died.”

“Un. Dying.” Adam articulated. “Besides the death of the rest of me gave me perspective. I ain’t watching that shit again. And you’re welcome.”

“But--”

“If Dean wants to take you out on a date to see it, I’m not intervening.” With that Adam left the last notes of his sing-song voice with Michael out on the fire-escape. It wasn’t fun enough when he couldn’t see Dean’s sputtering reaction to the teasing either way.

  
  


For all intents and admirable purposes, Michael had made amends still that weekend, and was properly introduced to Adam’s whole two friends and two of Karen’s fellow dorm-dwellers and one of their boyfriends. They went out to the movies at Karen’s invitation. And while Adam was satisfied to stick to Karen’s side and drop a few one-liners here and there, but mostly soak up the warmth of being around a group’s easy chit-chat he didn’t necessarily need to understand, Michael and Mitch drifted more to the side. The former eyed the crowd before the snack stand with some condescending-laced curiousity, with the latter shuffling in his place awkwardly, gaze fixed on the linoleum floor.

To Adam’s surprise the next time he turned around the M&M’s duo were engaged in some seemingly rather serious conversation that was only stalled because of the movie’s title showing up on the screen. 

To his even greater surprise after two-hours Michael and Karen  _ both  _ were honest to absentee-god laughing together as they headed out of the mall into the cool night. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I made my friends the same way Adam made his. Surprising, right?
> 
> Also, since Michael is still painfully close to my heart, you are stuck with him having my sense of awful humour. Have I mentioned how self-indulgent this fic will be?

**Author's Note:**

> If you feel like poking me into getting some actual writing done, you can do it over at my [tumblr](http://omaano.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  


End file.
